


The Chances You Take

by maiNuoire



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6109081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack was stunned for a moment, the ghost of his father’s hand on his shoulder and the echo of his words in his head. “You miss a hundred percent of the chances you don’t take.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chances You Take

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Zimbits fic (I've done a couple not fics on tumblr, but those are itty bitty *ha*)
> 
> I'm still trying to find their voices, I hope I've done them justice! Please let me know what you think, because I think I'd like to write more Jack and Bitty and their hockey nerd friends, but I want to be certain I'm doing it right!
> 
> Enjoy!

Jack was stunned for a moment, the ghost of his father’s hand on his shoulder and the echo of his words in his head.  _ “You miss a hundred percent of the chances you don’t take.” _ He shuts his eyes for a moment, sees Bitty’s smile, sees his big brown eyes full of goodbyes and unsaid somethings, sees his long, nimble fingers wrapped around the blue silk tie Jack’s wearing and currently absently fiddling with. 

 

Jack’s heart stutters, and then starts again, beating too fast against his ribs. “Oh,” he says out loud, startled and exhilarated all at once. His body catches up to his brain, and he’s running, a “I’ll be right back” tossed over his shoulder, his dress shoes slapping against the manicured lawn, then the winding sidewalks. The only thought in his mind a repeating chorus of  _ find Bittle find Bittle find Bittle _ , and he’s distantly aware that he has pretty much zero idea what he’s going to say to Eric when he finds him.

 

He starts muttering in time with the echo of his pounding steps, “ _ Please don’t be gone, please don’t be gone,” _ and just the idea that Bitty might already be on his way to the airport makes his stomach clench; he runs faster, the Haus in view spurring him to put on speed. Despite the years of training, skating and building strength and stamina, when he thunders up onto the porch, he’s panting and out of breath. 

 

He bends over a little, hands braced on his knees as he takes in heaving breath after heaving breath, willing his heart to stop galloping and trying desperately to formulate a sentence in his head that is more complex than “Hey, Bittle, I- er, Eric, I think I. That is, we should-” and failing utterly and completely. He stands up, his breathing sufficiently steadied, and takes half a step toward the door, hand already raised to turn the knob. Only, he doesn’t get that far, because the door opens inward before he can reach it.

 

The door opens, and it reveals Bitty, out of his suit and in a soft looking SMH tee and shorts, his eyes look slightly red, as if he’s been crying, and the thought makes Jack’s heart clench. The relief at finding that he hadn’t missed Bittle, hadn’t missed his chance, is momentarily overwhelming, as he’d been half certain that he’d arrive to find the taillights of the Airport Shuttle driving away from the Haus. 

 

Bitty blinks at Jack, as though trying to clear the image of him from his vision. “Jack? What’re you doin’ here,” he asks, and the gentle lilting accent around his name will never fail to make Jack smile.

 

“I wanted to say goodbye,” Jack starts, because it’s better than staring at Eric with his mouth hanging open.

 

Bittle laughs lightly, “Didn’t we already do that before? Because I gotta be honest Jack, I don’t know how many times I can say goodbye to you.” He sounds almost defeated, and it’s so foreign, so  _ wrong _ to hear Bitty sound anything other than optimistic that Jack feels it like a punch; an ache in his chest. Luckily, he’s pretty sure he knows how to remedy it, for both of them, if he can only get the words out.

 

He takes a step forward, then another, until he stands close enough to Bitty that he can settle his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Though, his hand is perhaps a little closer to cradling his neck than to resting his hand comfortingly on his shoulder, and the slight quickening of Bitty’s pulse is a satisfying and enticing  _ thumpathumpthump  _ under Jack’s thumb. “Bitty, I wanted to tell you that I-” he takes a deep breath, blinks for a long moment and meets Eric’s eyes, relief coursing through him again to find curiosity and something like hope in their warm depths. “I don’t want to miss my shot because I’m too scared to take it.”

 

That- sounded better in his head. Bitty is looking at him like he’s speaking in tongues, an adorable crinkle in his brow, his lips turned slightly down in concentration  and Jack wants nothing more than to kiss the frown until it melts into a moan. “I mean- let me start over, please,” he begs lightly, but doesn’t wait for acknowledgement to continue.

 

“I don’t want to say goodbye, Bitty. I don’t want to say goodbye to you. Not now, maybe not ever. And I know my timing is awful and we’re getting on planes going to different places soon, but I don’t want this to be goodbye, I want this to be the start of something. I want it to be where we start. Together,” it all comes out in a rush, and Jack isn’t totally certain that he actually managed to say anything. Eric’s face is still scrunched in confusion, and it’s slowly gentling from a moue to a tentative excitement that makes Jack’s stomach flutter.

 

Bitty looks down, and then up at him from under his lashes, his hands hesitantly settling against Jack’s chest. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than usual and thick with emotion, “Jack,” is barely an exhale, “I need you to be really clear here, alright. Tell me what you’re tryin’ to tell me like I’m stupid, because if I’m misinterpreting you I- I just can’t mistake this, alright?”

 

He sounds so anxious, and it makes Jack ache for him, even as the hopeful words lighten the knot in his chest and makes his skin tingle. “ _ Eric, _ ” he starts fondly, bringing his free hand to Bitty’s hip and curling forward slightly to offset the difference in their height. “No mistake, I want to-.” A loud  _ beep beep _ cuts him off, and they both startle and look up, though they don’t part, instead their hands tighten, Jack’s gripping Bitty’s hip, Bitty’s hands fisting in Jack’s dress shirt. The Airport Shuttle has arrived, and the driver eyes them impatiently.

 

“ _ Jack _ ,” Bitty sighs, “I have to go. I can’t miss my-” Jack can’t let him leave yet, not with things so uncertain, so he cuts him off with a quick press of lips. When he pulls away, searching Bitty’s face for a sign that he didn’t screw up, didn’t just lose one of the best friends he’s ever had because he misread Eric’s feelings or projected his own onto the other man. What he sees is Eric Bittle with his eyes lightly shut and his lips slightly parted, leaning toward him, and Jack has never seen anything so wonderful.

 

Bitty opens his eyes, meets Jack’s and gasps a small “Oh,” before he slides his hands up to cup Jack’s face, he tugs gently and Jack lets himself be led, exhales happily into the warm embrace of Bitty’s lips against his own, sinks into the kiss with grateful enthusiasm as their lips drag wetly and eagerly and their arms wind around each other as though they’ve held each other for years.

 

Another honk cracks the pleasantly quiet air, and a surprised “Bitty, I think your ride- Oops,” spurs them to part again, though it’s a slow thing, a slack jawed Chowder stares at them from the doorway, he gives them a wide grin and a thumbs up when they notice him before he waves and retreats back inside.

 

“Um, well then,” Eric says just this side of too cheerful, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the other falling slowly away from Jack’s, embarrassment and pleasure painting his cheeks a pleasing pink. “I should probably,” he gestures vaguely at the shuttle van and Jack reaches for his loosely hanging arm, twines their fingers together.

 

“C’mon, Bitty. Let’s get you to your flight, eh?” Jack can feel the smile stretching his cheeks, and when Bitty squeezes his hand and grins back at him, he feels it grow wider still.

 

“Jack Zimmermann, I am not going to say goodbye to you again,” Bitty jokes, a laugh that’s more of a sharp exhale than anything pushing the words out of him.

  
“Good, because I am not interested in goodbye from you, Eric Bittle.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography) and we can flail about hockey bros in love and other fandom type things!


End file.
